


Yesterday and Today

by nchi_wana



Category: Et Cetera (Manga)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Gift Giving, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nchi_wana/pseuds/nchi_wana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baskerville finds a music box that reminds him of his late sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yesterday and Today

**Author's Note:**

> This story is related to my previous fanfictions.

He almost passed by the window in his hurry to get home. It was something quite small that had caught the man’s attention, and so he backed up to face the storefront.

Having trained himself to never pass up an oddity, especially if it’d been a gun, Baskerville leaned forward and stared through the glass. A long black coat graced his lanky form to protect him from the chill of winter, and as he breathed, the glass fogged and he had to promptly wipe the window. Had he been standing so close?

Behind the glass were shelves of various trinkets, mostly music boxes. Many were quite large. Such things were new to the times and had become popular, but Baskerville had never paid much attention. Yet his gaze settled on one particular box. The small square wooden box sat among its larger companions, its lid open to display the inner workings of cogs, metal comb, and cylinder. On the underside of the lid was a mirror, but from this angle Baskerville couldn’t see the decoration on the other side of the lid. Just looking at it opened a floodgate of bittersweet memories.

He remembered purchasing a similar box several years ago, in the days before he worked for the Syndicate, before his sister Chisel had fallen ill. She’d been healthy in those years, helping him around the house with the chores, alone as they’d been without any parents. Chisel had more energy then, and she never seemed to run out of it despite being only a small child. It always amazed him how hard and how long she could work, hauling water from the well, milking their only cow, and cooking. She’d be up before the sun rose and wouldn’t go to bed until it was well below the horizon. He often commented that she had a better work ethic than he did, but she would always disagree. Baskerville, known as Razy back then, had taken a job working at the docks in New York City when he was a teenager, and used his meager earnings to buy food and clothes for him and his sister. They didn’t exactly live in luxury, but all that mattered to them was that they were together. She was the only reason why he ever got up in the morning.

It was during one particular winter season right before Christmas that he decided to splurge and buy her a gift that would leave her breathless. They didn’t own much. They shared most of what they owned, and spent all their money on necessities. But he’d been saving all year just for this one special gift.

Baskerville continued to stare into the window and realized he’d put his hand to the glass. An impulse drove him into the store where he promptly requested to purchase music box. Once he stepped outside the door, however, he wondered what on earth he was going to do with it now. What good was a music box to him?

He was barely aware of the snow beginning to flutter down from the sky as he took hold of the lever on the side of the box and turned it. The tinkling music could be faintly heard above the noise of carriage traffic on the road and the low murmuring of passersby. He stood mesmerized by the song as he was struck by the notes of the tune. He knew this melody. His fingers worked the lever once more as he listened carefully. It had to be. This was the same song.

It had been on Christmas morning that Baskerville presented the music box to his sister. The polished wood gleamed in the early morning light that poured in from their kitchen window. The memory of Chisel’s small white hands cradling it as her wide eyes brimmed with joyous tears was still fresh in his mind. She’d grasped the delicate lever and the song that seemed to sprinkle the air like invisible musical stars would always remain to him a reflection of her innocence, something he had never been able to find again in this world.

The song ended on the last note, and Baskerville remained at the storefront. This music box played the same song as the one he gave to Chisel. As he closed the lid, his fingers traced an engraved carving of an angel. Although the carving on the front had been different on Chisel’s—a flower, as he recalled—he found the image appropriate. But he couldn’t help but feel it was a bit uncanny that he should find a music box that played the exact same song during the same season he had purchased his sister’s.

Baskerville decided he’d been standing there for long enough, and slipped the music box into his coat pocket.

When he arrived back at Elwood’s house, he found it strangely quiet. He slipped off his coat and lingered there in the entryway, listening for any sounds. Silence to him was unsettling. He knew Elwood was absent as usual, and his maid, Eska, was probably just in the basement doing laundry, but Mingchao? In her case, silence was _ominous_.

He stepped toward a staircase and looked up. “Mingchao?” he called, but received no answer. Shrugging, he grabbed the music box before hanging his jacket on a peg near the door, and headed for his room. He half expected Mingchao to come tumbling out of a room to greet him, but the halls were still quiet. His suspicions grew. Was she even in the house?

When he opened the door to his room, Baskerville stopped short. _That’s_ why Mingchao wasn’t answering him. There was someone under the covers on his bed, and he was pretty certain who it might be. The soft snoring was another clue.

“Mingchao,” he grumbled. “What are you doing in my bed?”

No answer.

He sighed and went to pull the covers back. The girl was dead asleep in her day clothes, but as the light fell on her face, she snorted and opened her eyes. Sitting up, Mingchao yawned and stretched.

“What took you so long to get back?” she asked, blinking up at him.

“Have you been waiting here this whole time? Didn’t you do anything today?” Baskerville said, surprised. “And why are you napping in my bed?”

Mingchao ignored his question and eagerly reached into her shirt to pull something out. She took his hand and pushed something into his palm. “I made this and wanted to give it to you today!” she told him with sparkling eyes.

Baskerville brought up what was in his hand. “What—“

“It’s a glove!” Mingchao could barely contain her excitement. “Just like mine!”

Baskerville glanced at the girl’s hand to see she was wearing her brown fingerless glove on her right hand today.

Mingchao obviously thought this was something genius. “Put it on! Put it on!”

The stitching was a bit rough, and it was a simple design. He slipped it on and stared at it.

“Isn’t it great?!” his friend chirped. “Now we’re _twins_!”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope!”

Baskerville searched her expression for the joke, but found she was being genuine. “Umm…”

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“S-Sure!” he said, managing a smile. “You did well making it!”

She would’ve fallen over had he not said, “Wait, I have something for you, too!” In his other hand he quickly brought forth the music box. “I got this for you.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely true, since he hadn’t been thinking of Mingchao when he bought it, but…

Mingchao froze and eyed the music box. She looked at it like she’d never seen one before. Slowly, she took it from his hand. “What…is it?” She lifted the lid with a puzzled expression.

“Turn the handle there,” Baskerville instructed.

She did, and when the song started to play, she almost dropped the box. “It plays music?!” Her eyes got bigger as she continued to turn the lever and watch the rotating cylinder as it plucked the metal comb. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”

Baskerville almost laughed. _You say that about a lot of things._ “I got one for my sister a long time ago. When I found this one, I had to get it right away.”

The music stopped. When he looked down at his friend, she was staring at the box sadly. “What happened to it?” she asked. All traces of her joy had vanished.

Baskerville hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything. He looked away from her and out the window. “I buried it with Chisel.”

He saw her gently close the lid to the music box and run her thumbs over the carved angel. She squeezed her eyes shut, stood up from the bed, and reached around him to hug him tightly.

Baskerville, a little taken aback, rested a hand on her head. “Mingchao, it’s okay.”

“But it must’ve hurt you to remember,” she said, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against him. “You didn’t have to get this for me.” She sniffled and lifted her head.

Baskerville stroked her hair. “It really is okay, Mingchao. I want you to keep it.”

She gave him a small smile. “Then I’ll treasure it for as long as I live!”

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